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“Uhhh, you okay there, Fox?”
Akira glanced over his shoulder, hanging onto the safety railing as the ship sailed onwards. The sea was red, the buildings were sinking, and they moved on at breakneck pace. He agreed that this was the perfect kind of Palace for Shido. But now, even as they were all assessing the endless landscape around them, he noticed that Yusuke had fallen back with his arms crossed over his stomach.
“It seems my carsickness extends to the sea as well,” Yusuke murmured, and any fascination that might have been in his voice was belittled by how pale he’d gotten when Akira hadn’t been looking.
Ryuji, who had been going to check on him, took a hasty step back. “Ew. Uh…”
“Really?” Ann muttered.
“You are looking more ill than you do when we’re in the Mona bus,” Makoto said. She had no qualms about stepping into Yusuke’s evident line of fire, and neither did Haru.
“Oh no. I wish I had brought something. Should we go inside? Would that help?”
Yusuke was looking more troubled by the second. Akira doubled back around to get a hand at his elbow just in case. “I’m not entirely certain,” Yusuke replied and swallowed. And swallowed again.
“He’s gonna hurl.”
“Oracle.”
He really did look a lot more pale than he did when the supposed carsickness kicked in. That was never severe. Yusuke would get mildly nauseous at most, and that was rare. Nothing like this, Akira thought, watching the sweat bead up around Yusuke’s hairline.
Yusuke laughed dryly, closing his eyes. “Regardless of her candor, I think she… might be right.”
“Are you friggin’ serious, man?”
Saying nothing, Akira slid his hand around to the small of Yusuke’s back and gently urged him towards the side of the boat.
“Heave ho!”
“Mona!”
Morgana and Futaba’s conspiratorial laughter might have drowned out the sound of vomiting, except… it didn’t. Akira grimaced and rubbed the heel of his hand along Yusuke’s spine, turning to the rest of the party. “You guys go ahead. Investigate only the entrance. Don’t engage with anything potentially dangerous. We’ll be in in a minute.” No cure for seasickness aside– and lacking any medication for it, obviously– at least he could get Yusuke a moment of privacy.
“You should go,” Yusuke rasped.
“No.”
“You sure?” Ryuji asked, eyeing the two of them.
“Only the entrance,” Akira repeated. “Queen?” She was as close to a second in command as he got, and she was also more likely to enforce the rules. Or, at least try to.
“Why’re you asking her?!”
“I understand,” Makoto said. “I’ll keep them safe.”
“Thank you.”
“No, really, why is he asking you??”
The protests and grumbled questions trailed off as the rest of the group headed inside. Yusuke moaned softly and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the rail. “This is considerably less interesting than I previously thought.”
Akira laughed humorlessly. “Right… you did call your carsickness that, didn’t you?” Of course he did. He was looking like he was regretting it now.
“Yes.” He sucked in a sharp breath, fingers seizing around the railing. “It doesn’t seem to… to be helping looking at the waves.”
“Um.” Medical knowledge wasn’t in his repertoire. He knew basic first aid, had to, potions only went so far. He definitely didn’t know anything about seasickness. “Close your eyes?”
“I tried. I don’t–” The muscles in his back tensed again; Akira pressed his hand a little more firmly against the curve of his spine. “I think it makes it worse, feeling but not seeing,” Yusuke continued quickly, and Akira might have been inclined to agree when Yusuke started gagging again.
“Alright. That’s fine. When you’re finished, we’ll go inside. It might be completely different on the inside.” At least, hopefully, the rolling motion wouldn’t be so pronounced. It was a Palace. Who knew was it was going to be like inside the building? At least give him something to look forward to instead of vomiting over the side of a ship.
Yusuke was shaking, just enough to make the ends of his hair tremble, when he could scrub the back of his hand against his mouth. “Apologies.”
Akira shrugged, now holding onto Yusuke’s gloves and leaning against the railing himself. Comforting only went so far before it got overbearing, and Yusuke was sweating enough that his jacket was damp. “Not your fault. You feeling any better?”
Bracing his hip against the railing, Yusuke dragged both of his hands across his face. It was probably the least put together Akira had ever seen him, and it was completely understandable. “Not really,” he said weakly. “But I believe I can try moving.”
“You sure?” He held out a hand as Yusuke took a step away from the side of the ship, ready to, he didn’t know, catch him if he collapsed or something.
But he didn’t, and just nodded, still looking supremely weak and pale. “I will aim in a different direction than your shoes, if need be.” Still managing to smile faintly, even through that horrible sheen of sweat.
Akira rolled his eyes. “They’d clean.” He gestured Yusuke ahead, trying to keep a close eye on him just in case. But he was well enough to actually get inside the Palace. “How is this? Any better?”
“This is… truly a magnificent sight.”
“What– oh.”
It should have come at no surprise– sick or not– that Yusuke didn’t fail to comment on the majestic interior of the ship. Hair still falling into his eyes a little, still a lot pale, and half slumped against the wall, but he was still ogling the interior of the ship like, well, like someone should ogle the inside of a ship like this but that wasn’t the point–
“Yusuke.”
“I wonder if my hands might stop shaking enough so I might sketch…”
“Yusuke,” he repeated, a little more firmly, as if he could rein him back in.
He could.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Yusuke turned back to Akira. At least there was some light in his eyes. “You were saying?”
“I was asking,” Akira said patiently, “if this was better, inside.”
“Maybe.” His arms fell to wrap around his stomach again. “I still feel less than at top shape.”
“Yeah, I imagine. Here, there’s a seat, come on.” He caught the fabric of Yusuke’s sleeve between his fingers to guide him over, and then sat down a little closer than necessary. Worrying habits. Akira never could seem to shake those. “We’ll head back in a minute.”
“What?” If Yusuke had looked troubled before, he looked even more so now. “No. I can go on.”
“Like that’s gonna happen.”
“Well…” He slumped over slightly, bracing his arms against his knees. Akira wanted to put his hand onto his back again, but he didn’t. “I could sit out, at least. There’s no reason for you not to explore.”
“You’re usually on the front line, and you’re sick. Those are reasons enough. Plus my ice Persona’s in lockdown…” Yusuke’s glance said that he didn’t understand, and Akira didn’t feel like explaining the finer nuances of the Velvet Room just then. “We need you, Yusuke. That’s enough.”
He looked a little surprised, as though he hadn’t expected the answer he’d gotten, but then his lips curved into the tired approximation of a smile as he turned away. “Thank you. I do apologize, though.”
“No need–”
“Joker, we’re coming back.”
Joker tilted his head towards the stairs leading further in. “Did you find anything?”
“I’ll give you the deets soon!”
“Alright.”
“I wonder if they found anything,” Yusuke said. He had sat up straight again when Futaba’s voice came through, but now his shoulder was brushing Akira’s again. He slumped against him a little, really, as he continued speaking. “This is our most important Palace. Our last job as Phantom Thieves, we must see it through to the end.”
Akira really didn’t want to think about it. “Take it easy, Yusuke. We’ve only just started here. We’ll do it right.”
Yusuke hummed. “Right.” Akira jumped a little when Yusuke’s head descended onto his shoulder.
“Okay there?”
“Yes. A bit woozy.”
“Okay.”
The urge to have smoothed his hand up Yusuke’s back earlier had turned into the desire to stroke his fingers through his hair and hold him close. He tended to worry. He also tended to be a tactile worrier. A tactile person, in general, actually. God, he wanted to touch–
“Heyyyy!”
Akira dropped his hand– halfway to being on this side of too tactile– back into his lap as Ryuji came down the stairs. The rest of them followed behind him; Ann swatted at Ryuji’s shoulder as they went.
“Why don’t you just yell across the whole lobby?”
“Is this a lobby?”
“Umm… maybe?”
“Is it called a lobby on a ship?”
“Dude, you look like shit.”
Yusuke still hadn’t raised his head. “Yes.”
“Are you feeling any better?” Haru asked, stooping next to him.
“Maybe a little.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear!”
“What did you find out?” Akira asked.
They ran through the information. They had found a map, and had heard some information about the ship and its occupants, and gotten into a fight (which he was not excited to hear). When they had finished planning what they’d do next, Morgana suggested that they retreat for now and Makoto agreed; with Yusuke’s state, Akira agreed, too. Surprisingly, Yusuke didn’t say anything in protest… which was when Akira realized he had fallen asleep.
“Oh.”
“He must feel like shit, too.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I had food poisoning once. It was hell.”
“Well, there you go.”
Akira sighed, gently shaking Yusuke’s knee. “Yusuke. Hey, wake up.”
“… hmmm?”
“We’re leaving.”
“… oh!” Yusuke sat up sharply, hands flying to his stomach. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off.”
“Take it easy.” Akira stood, holding down a hand to him. So did Haru. “Come on.”
“… truly a soothing force in my life.”
Akira chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”
“We’ll help you home.”
“Oh, thank you. I didn’t mean to bother you all today.”
“You’re fine.”
“Don’t worry about it!”
“Yeah, go home and get some rest, okay?”
“Yes.”
“And get some medication for seasickness.”
“Right… thank you.”
Yusuke still looked half asleep, or maybe it was just the nausea kicking back in as they stepped outside, but they managed to get him out of the Palace before the group parted ways. Akira offered to walk him back to the dorms.
“I’m fine, Akira, truly.”
“You’re still swaying.”
“… Very well, it is… persisting. I still feel like we’re on the ship.”
“That’s why I’m walking you home,” Akira said gently. “Don’t want you passing out along the way there.”
“That’s true. I owe you again.”
“I think you pretty much cover it by doing what you do, anyway.”
“Do you think?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s good.” Yusuke shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re too kind.”
“Yeah, well, so are you.”
Yusuke laughed softly before he fell silent.
The walk to the dorms was companionable; it always was. Yusuke didn’t get sick again, and Akira breathed a sigh of relief to see him let himself into his dorms. Talk about a person needing someone to worry about them. Yusuke was a prime example. He wasn’t good at taking care of himself, it seemed like.
Well, Akira would just have to be there to take care of him himself, then.